


A Vampire in Maple Bay

by noisystar



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Cults, Death Monologues, Dubious Consent, Fluff and Smut, Love Triangles, M/M, Paranormal, Pining, Poor Life Decisions, Romance, Self-Destruction, Torture, Vampires, Yuletide, Yuletide 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noisystar/pseuds/noisystar
Summary: Written for Yuletide 2017〆(・∀・＠)This is a piece of what happens in an AU where Damien is the new neighbor, Robert suspects he's a vampire, and Joseph has his fingers deep in Robert's cookie jar.





	1. the vampire isn't the problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [delina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delina/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, sweet reader <3 Thank you for the lovely request. I've tried some things I've never tried before, so I hope you can appreciate the amateur touch!

  * _Friday Night, Halloween. 2 am: suspect seen stalking out from behind Jim & Kim's -suspicious red smears around suspects mouth - checked behind bar, nothing there_


  * _Second Friday of November. -made plans with suspect to hang out in the park -suggested we meet at 2pm, but he said he couldn't meet me until after dark_


  * _Last Saturday Night. Was coming home from Jim & Kim's (no Mary). TWO SMALL FLYING CREATURES, BATS??? (birds? maybe) flew out of one of the Bloodmarch's windows. Did not think anything of it at the time, but do they even have pets?_



 

Robert's note paper crinkled in his grip. He had been scanning over his notes over and over again, trying to focus, but all he could think about was Joseph's margarita-blue eyes. He glared at the cross tattoo on his hand before he let his head thunk against his steering wheel. The air was starting to lighten around him as dawn approached. His Tom Waits tape was on its seventh play-through of "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You".

Betsy barked sleepily from the back seat. "Sorry, girl," Robert said, running his hand over her tiny body, firmly rooted in reality, before opening a tin of food from the dashboard compartment and setting it on the floor of the back seat, where it joined an assortment of tins, dried-up pieces of meat, and dribble. "There you go," he said, showing his appreciation for her physical company by giving her a rub, then scooping most of the wine bottles from the back seat into a plastic grocery bag. Last night was a rough night. "You're the only thing I can trust in this world, Bets." Unlike the faded black smears on his past: his family, his ties to the world, and his last-ditch effort to catch that god damn Dover Ghost, all blown away and leaving Robert in the shadow of a dream too manifold to make sense.

He reached in his jacket pocket for another cigarette and flipped open the carton to find it empty. He checked the surrounding compartments, throwing around stained napkins and empty whiskey bottles, and stuck his hands deep between and under the seats, pulling out rubbed-red fingers that were sticky with lint and old ketchup. He had been up all night recording observations and ideas and must have burned through his stash. Robert groggily eyed one of the bottles of liquifying cigarette butts he had on top of scattered notes in the passenger seat. After a moment of consideration, he grabbed the bottle, held his breath and twisted it open to see if there were any salvageable butts.

The bloated stubs all swam uselessly beside the tattoo on his hand.

“Robert?”

“Shit!” Robert quickly shut the bottle of butts hoping to eliminate the smell of burning feces. He tried to hide his pile of notes by slamming his outspread palm on top of it, while bending himself awkwardly up against the wheel to block view of the pile with his body. In this new uncomfortable position, he rolled down the window. The breeze blew in and nipped at his collar, where a nervous sweat had invited itself to stay. “Hi,” Robert managed. 

It was Damien Bloodmarch, the hot new neighbor, as curious and nerdy as could be. Behind him lurked his teenage son, Lucien, who looked like he'd be more at home in a morgue than in a suburban neighborhood. They were both wearing large sun hats and sunglasses, and it seemed like the only skin exposed was their faces. The both of them were even wearing gloves. Damien was holding some frilly umbrella over his head. At the buttcrack of dawn when there was hardly a shred of sunlight.

“Whatever has brought you to my domain?”

Robert licked his teeth. “There was an Italian man. Shouting something about 'dirty fascists.' Jumping across the rooftops. He was running from the cops and I wanted to make sure he got away. Then I just... Didn’t make it all the way to my place.” Damien did Robert the courtesy of not turning to observe the considerably short distance between Damien's house and Robert's, which had only a thin section of grass between them. 

“Ah. An oversight of trivial measure,” Damien's voice wisped into uncertain quiet. “Oh! While you are here, do take an invitation to a masquerade dinner party I am hosting here at my abode. It has always been my dream to have one--and now that my son and I have acquired this lovely estate, I would be immeasurably honored if you were to attend. It would be an opportunity to meet my brood of loyal friends.” Damien smiled, and it filled Robert’s head like some kind of drug. He had no business feeling the effects of a kindness he didn't deserve. Even when he suspected it may not be genuine, Robert fell hard for a hint of conscientious compassion, and in the short time since Damien had moved in, Robert had been continually surprised with the man's generosity. There was no explaining it and he did not deserve to live on an earth that enjoyed that good of a thing.

"What friends, Dad?" huffed Lucien. "We didn't get along with anyone back in 'family values' Gentrification Town."

"You're not the only one who keeps in contact with... old friends, my darling." Damien replied. He locked eyes suspiciously with Lucien-- _old friends_ , huh?--before he turned back to Robert, enthusiastically sticking his head inside the car's window and far too close for Robert's comfort and emotional stability. Robert was flushed with memories of what had happened last night. In-between the black outs and the obsessing over details of his time with Damien, there was the reason he had picked up the bottle in the first place. Fighting the flashback, Robert found himself burying his mouth in his hand while he absently picked at one of the brightly-colored stickers on his dashboard. He remembered the cell phone he had chucked from the overlook, the one that held a voice mail from the daughter he hadn't heard from in five years. He thought getting rid of the opportunity to call back would make things easier. It had not, and now he would have to dig the landline out from under stacks of old mail to order pizza.

"I do hope our mysterious new neighbors will join us for dinner as well." Damien's voice guided Robert back to the present. He was beginning to suffer from heatstroke with Damien hovering so close to him.

“Sure. I'll think about it.” Robert mumbled, taking the invitation. It had fancy lettering and lacy decorations printed on parchment paper. After a thick moment, Robert plopped his hands onto the steering wheel. Staring at Damien, he pointed a stiff finger in the direction of his own house. Damien stared back, unblinking, and Robert swallowed.

“Do you mind?” Robert tried.

“Oh, my apologies,” Damien said, all blushing cheeks and cascading hair, his hat flopping back into shape as he stepped away from the car.

His SUV jerked abruptly forward. “Hell…” Robert sighed, watching through the rear-view mirror. Lucien linked arms with his father and joined him under the umbrella as they walked up their driveway. No matter how fascinating Robert had found Damien at first, no matter how frustratingly cute he was, he would have to get over it. After mulling over the evidence, he could not deny that there was a very strongly probable chance...

That Damien Bloodmarch was a vampire.

Which was why he had camped out in his car, to get a better view of the house right next to his. Also, the fact that he had been drinking and was an award-winning expert at making shamefully poor choices.

“What the hell!” Robert yanked on the steering wheel, swerving into his lawn to avoid the two blond imps in his driveway. Did they even sleep? That would explain their freaky eyes. He shoved out of his SUV to square off with the two most joyless children in the cul-de-sac. “What kind of horrible kids are you to be out of bed before the sun's even up? Go get run over in your own damn driveway, Chris… and… Chris…” 

The Christiansen twins didn't move. While Robert struggled between the soft spot he might have possessed for demon children and the repulsion he had for the man they resembled, the twins floated towards him, until one of them held out a flyer.

“Don’t be afraid,” they said in unison as Robert reached out. He hesitated, then took the damn sheet of paper.

A picture of a baby stared back at him. The Christiansen children barely seemed real--they struck him more as shadows than as something that might be human one day. But the picture smiled back at him, an all-human smile that didn't belong on a baby. Its eyes stared right into Robert's eyes, laughing at him as if they were perfectly aware of how they tortured him with no effort. Strung like two blue butterfly wings clipped and suspended in glass on the mantlepiece, dusted and spit-shined like a mutilated lie. A flash of Joseph's bedroom, the meticulously detached decor, those two floating blue eyes with a big wooden cross on the wall behind them. 

"It's a party for our newborn!"

Robert looked up to see the eyes from the picture. He then saw the unfavorable body around them, the flesh of Joseph Christiansen, fully outfitted in his unfeeling Stepford Wives skin, something completely different from the person he had been with in that memory. Joseph was standing in his front lawn, hose in hand at his waist, water spraying over the garden. In the dark. A thin spray glistened over his figure and gave his skin a Barbie-like plastic sheen. Robert’s heart clogged his throat. The only part left over from the Joseph he thought he knew was the way he looked. Now he had to watch those achingly familiar features stretch themselves grotesquely over whatever nonsensical delusions Joseph was telling himself.

Robert furiously twisted back towards his SUV and stuck one foot in, then found himself looking back in Joseph’s direction - and he was gone. The hose was snuggled in the grass, dry. God-damned man had disappeared like a ghost.


	2. a dreadful wind

Jim & Kim's. A place where lies could be themselves and play pool. Many would come and drink themselves into whatever stupor would temporarily relieve them of their existential dread. The bar was a chrysalis for necessary affairs and secrets to find themselves. The reflection of the Christmas lights over the bar flapped like wings in Robert's beer as it swirled. All day he had been waiting for this, his home found beneath the layer of grime, where he could lift his glass and feel the winged lie unfold in his mouth. Swallowing it whole.

"Hey sailor. Looks like you're really enjoying that beer."

"Mary." Robert smiled and drew her in for a hug. "Is this your first visit since the..." He waved his hand at her newly deflated stomach. 

"No," Mary said as she leaned over the bar beside him. The bartender, Neil, slid her a drink courtesy of a man Robert didn't recognize across the room. Mary downed it quickly without relish and looked at Robert.

"You gonna..." Robert nodded toward the man.

"Maybe."

Robert grimaced. "I didn't think he was your type."

Mary Christiansen stretched a wide, flat grin that smelled of pure alcohol, and whether it was fake or not wasn't relevant. It suited her, illuminated her and drew men to her like moths to moonlight. "Hm, it's the little things that count. Like the fact that he's anyone but Joseph. I've been marinated in that man for the past nine months," she slurred.

Robert was well aware of Joseph's newfound obsession with his family. It had been tainting the surprise sex Joseph had been seducing him into, about nine months of it, up until right before the baby was born.

"You?" asked Mary.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that we haven't talked about Joseph for a while, and I was wondering if anything had changed."

Robert blinked. Mary had paused her sip. "Nope. Not at all. Still hate him. Still wanna see him fucked. Don't know why you're with him." Robert shrugged. "Don't know why we're talking about him."

Mary peered at him for a moment. Robert kept his thoughts far away from the affair continued from years ago, from their first and isolated "one night stand". And Robert had no idea what to think of it, because outside of those moments--when Robert enjoyed Joseph throwing him down, overpowering him, enjoyed fighting just to lose--Joseph was an absolute _toe rag_ and couldn't be trusted one goddamn bit, talking about how he had to be there for his loveless family and his new baby. 

Finally, Mary released the building tension. "Yep, you're right. Breaking the No-Joseph-Allowed Rule."

"You started it, you've got the tab tonight," Robert snickered.

"Ugh, I just pushed a fucking human out of me," Mary snarled into her next cocktail. "No more than three drinks then. I'm serious."

"Fine," Robert looked at Mary. Her human suit was slipping and her grotesque inner self was oozing out. Gross. "You're in a mood tonight."

"Yeah." Mary shook her head at him. "Let's move on."

Robert ordered a whiskey. In the silence, Robert wondered if he had washed his jeans since the day before the baby was born, when Joseph had seduced him behind the church. He tried to eye Mary in his peripherals to see if she was staring at him or not. She wasn't--she seemed to be drunk texting someone.

Finally, Mary spoke. "I noticed you haven't been coming 'round here as much. Swore off one-night-stands?"

Robert thought for a moment. "Guess since you were caught up in baby stuff I had no to reason to come here."

Mary smiled at Robert as if she saw right through him. "So where have you been getting your drink on?"

The truth was that Robert had been spending every night spying on Damien. He looked at Mary, who still seemed pretty irritable for whatever reason. He could tell that skirting the subject would just piss her off even more. "The new neighbor, Damien Bloodmarch."

The subject turned Moody Drunk Mary into Giddy Drunk Mary. "You're _fucking_ the new guy?!"

" _No._ No." Robert felt himself getting weirdly defensive. "I've just been... spending time... observing... him."

"Uh?" Mary grinned cheekily. "Well, he's definitely into you, I could see him blushing from across the street the other evening when you were walking Betsy."

"Huh? No, Mary, not flirting. Missing the point."

"Haha, you were totally flirting!" Ugh, how did he manage to give her that ammo? "At least, Damien was. I dunno what you were doing, asking mundanely weird questions, but I guess it worked on him. That's why you bumped into me walking the baby afterwards, I ran out to eavesdrop on you, honey. I know what goes on in our neighborhood." Mary looked at Robert pointedly, and he hoped he was just being paranoid when he found himself wondering if she was referring to Joseph. Just before he could no longer hold off a frog of a gulp, Mary brightened again. "But trust me, sweetheart, Damien's into you."

“What? No!" Why the Hell was it that one of them always ended up pissing the other one off?

"Ha. He was giggling at every word you said."

"Ugh, no,"

"Twirling his hair, moving his hips around, I know you noticed."

"--that’s not it!"

"He's so perfect for you, too. And he's so good with his son. He'll be a great influence on you with, y'know, Va--"

Now Robert was getting pissed. "Mary, he’s a vampire! And he's having some kind of dinner party, a trap to lure victims!”

Robert resisted the urge to air out his stifling collar. Mary narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, that's cool," said Mary after a moment, "you've got a thing for vampires. It fits the whole... creepy cryptid theme you got going on. That's perfect, and I can see you getting into the Victorian bit.” Mary shrugged into her sip of wine. “I have a thing for costumes, like the little thing priests wear around their necks. No judgment.”

“ _No,_ ” Robert grumbled, “he’s actually a _vampire_ , which is a supernatural monster. And lemme tell you, monsters are undateable. Incapable of love. They should be avoided at all costs.”

“That's a little judgey, don't you think, Robert? The whole Dover Ghost thing was cute, but if you’re gonna start _hunting_ the _neighbors_  and claiming them as incapable of love, you are officially a loser and I’m gonna be out of reasons to stay in this god-forsaken place.”

"Don't make me your excuse," Robert glared, committing the nonconsensual act of making the subject about Mary. "Maybe the Dover Ghost won't reveal itself to me, but at least I haven't let myself be totally defeated. Everyone's labors go unrequited at one point or another, but it takes someone truly desperate to stay with those fruitless labors in some sick and twisted marriage." Robert enunciated every word as if it were a leer up and down Mary’s body. There was a pause. Mary angrily typed something onto her phone.

“To that I have to say..." Mary spoke in a dangerously detached voice as she stared at her phone screen, "That the kettle’s black." Mary raised her glass. "Cheers."

Robert became aware that all of his hair was standing on end and he was covered in goosebumps, and he swore there were strands of Mary’s hair that were floating angrily around her head as if charged with upset static.

Their drinks chimed together, reflections of Christmas lights flapping off their glasses. The usual rush of adrenaline to give a little jump-kick to the nerves. It was all real and painful and searing, and it all slid down his throat just fine. When his empty glass hit the table, Mary was still taking a long, luxurious sip of her cocktail chaser.

“I love ya, Mary.”

Mary removed the glass from her grape-red lips, brushing her nails across her glowing neck and hair. She softened. "Love you, too.”

They slouched onto each other in what could be loosely referred to as a hug.

“So, are you gonna tell me you don’t have a thing for Damien, because you still have a thing for Joseph?” Mary slurred.

Robert groaned. Alcohol had all but depleted what little patience he had to begin with. “No. You know I don’t have a thing for Joseph. It was just the one time, never again. I would tell you if I did.”

“I know.” 

Over Mary’s shoulder, Robert glanced through the window and saw Joseph’s car pulling into the parking lot.

Robert's voice cracked. “What is he doing here?”

“Oh, shit." Mary's whirled around. "Sorry." She turned back towards Robert. "You were really pissing me off. I'm drunk."

Robert shoved himself off the bar stool. "You asked him to _come here?_ Why?"

"I asked him to pick me up," Mary corrected. 

Robert fumed. "What the hell, Mary! _Why would you do that me--to us_?" Robert said it before thinking, but the words had stumbled out of his mouth and there it was: by inviting Joseph to Jim  & Kim's, she had breached the core sanctity of their relationship.

Mary straightened. She slid her phone into her bag as she got up. " _I'm_ ruining us? Hey, at least I'm being _honest,_ which is more than I can expect from you." Her glower descended on Robert, her pupils suspended like those goddamn detached butterfly wings from the room she shared with Joseph.

It was too much. "Fucking _fuck_ ," Robert roared as he turned and stomped out, thrashing around in his pockets for a smoke. "The _one_ place, the _one_ place where we can forget about that asshole, and she..." Robert couldn't even finish his sentence. 

Then lightning struck in front of him in the form of Joseph's white face, flashing into view under the single dim light that hung over the bar's back door.

"If it isn't Satan himself." Robert snarled. He found himself standing there in their own little dusty spotlight. He was tingling. It was not often he and Joseph were alone nowadays- and in the few moments they had been, they were overcome with short-lived, volatile passion.

Joseph looked like he had been expecting to get caught out in the cold. He was bundled up in a coat, hat, scarves, and gloves. "Oh, Robert!" He feigned surprise so well. "Out here to smoke, I'm assuming? I wish you'd be careful, Robert." He shook his finger playfully. "Especially when you get into these drunken... ruminations... You could end up burning yourself, you know, heh!" His smile gleamed like plastic toy candy.

Robert wrinkled his nose and shook his head. For one, he was barely even buzzed at this point. "Was that supposed to be some kind of... veiled... threat?"

Joseph blinked at Robert. "I'm just saying, you're almost out of clothing that hasn't had most of the fabric burned away."

Robert's face was now locked in a perpetual snarl. "You can stop throwing your pity parties for me, you're the only one attending."

Joseph bit his lip in a way that glued Robert's attention. "I'm sorry. Here." Joseph stepped forward, cupping his hands on either side of Robert's face.

"What are you doing?"

"So you can light your cigarette, knucklehead. The wind is dreadful."

Joseph’s eyes hovered tantalizingly like strokes of dark wings waiting to descend, and framed by his own hands, he was all there was: darkness, and Joseph. Robert could not shake how familiar that darkness was, no matter how many years passed since he last felt it. Suddenly he remembered the high he had been chasing: it was real, and it was almost unattainable, except for the fleeting scraps Joseph would drop out of his own shackled hands. The bonds restraining him from his freedom with Robert was a twisted and abstruse one. Robert had thus far seen it lead as far back as the Orwellian "Church" he followed.

His cigarette was lifted to his lips. He struck it with a flash from his lighter. A tendril of singed air crawled from the burning glow at the end, like the tension rising from two bodies, smoldering together beneath an August sunset on the bay.

The memory flickered before his eyes, shafts of red stroking Joseph's face under the light from a time that now seemed like a delusion.

Robert snarled, shoving past Joseph before he did something worse. "Get lost!" 

"Uh, Robert... I actually _meant_ to bump into you." His voice dropped, his hand at some point having locked around Robert's wrist. Robert yanked his arm away. He felt like the longer he was exposed to Joseph, the less energy he had to deal with it.

"So you admit it. Because I know you parked on the other side of the bar. You walked all the way around like some weirdo stalker. You're not as clever as you think."

Joseph stepped towards him. Robert stood his ground. In a flash, Joseph was displaying his cheesy smile again. 

"I just wanted to ask you if you were coming to the New Born Baby Potluck! Dish sign-ups are due by tomorrow! We're also in dire need of plastic cutlery!"

"You're  _relentless_ , I'm so tired of it! I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I can't  _stand_ your bullshit! Are you even in there? Why won't you talk to me like a normal person? Cut it out, Joseph! Joseph?!" Robert found himself getting carried away, and as soon as he noticed it he lifted his foot and stepped on his own toe. " _God damnit_!" he swore, flinching his attention away from Joseph before he could let himself punch that beautiful face. He blamed his outburst on the fact that he was at Jim  & Kim's, the one place he could let himself get all gooey and soft, and here Joseph was to step all over him before he could scoop himself back inside his shell.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Rob," Joseph replied. His voice sounded hollow, like he just wasn't allowing himself to get it.

"No, you're not," Robert's voice lulled as he lazily looked Joseph up and down. "I'm just waiting until I can stop caring."

Joseph's eyes looked like they were trying to free themselves from the rest of his face. "Just... Come to the potluck, please? I know it'll at least mean a lot to Mary." 

"Ha. That's exactly what I needed to hear." Robert felt a spiteful smile forge itself out of his burning, all-encompassing self hatred.

"Robert, please--" Joseph reached out but Robert smacked him away before he had the chance to initiate another touch between them. 

"You disgust me, Talky Tina." Robert spat. "If you don't get the fuck off of me,  _especially_ _when Mary is right behind that door,_  I'm going to be mowing my lawn at 3 am every day for the next month to wake up that baby and fuck with you. I fucking will, 'cause I got nothing better to do." Robert shoved his finger hard into Joseph's clavicle, digging in as Joseph remained steady, although Robert swore he saw his American Psycho-perfect face wince.

After a moment, Joseph asked the most offensive question Robert could've imagined. "Did something happen between you two?"

Robert inched his face closer to Joseph's. He snarled down at the man's amenable lips. "Joseph, you have been hiding from me for--how old are the twins now? Seven, eight years? Then you come back around conveniently the moment you find out you're cooking up another kid? You see a fucked-up pattern here, scumbag? You don't get to talk to me about my life.  _Ever_." Robert turned before Joseph could ensnare him with another word. "See ya, fuck face." Mercifully, he did not hear if Joseph called after him as he stepped out into the cold and windy walk home. 


	3. when life gives you lemons, you don't shit in the lemonade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> content warning: brief description of traumatic death

 

The encounter with Joseph left a terrible taste in Robert's mouth that yearned to be replaced with a violent swig of alcohol. He threw himself into the long walk home, biting into the bitter cold with his bare teeth as it swallowed him. He fumbled for a cigarette, last one. He squashed it between his teeth and held a shaking lighter up to it. The wind mercilessly pummeled any chance of a flame.

"FUCK!" Robert yelled, shooting both cigarette and lighter at the ground.

" _FUCK Joseph!_ " his lips lashed the words over his wall of teeth.

 _FUCK_ that he was hopelessly, violently in love with that utter PRICK!!! It was like Kevin Conlin from 7th grade all over again, the kid that had picked on him  _nonstop_ and who  _everyone_ was in love with, so even in that Robert wasn't special. He was just the loser with a unibrow that looked like a sausage in a My Little Pony t-shirt. Joseph was the Heather of the neighborhood, and only half-jokingly called "Pigeonboy" because his face looked like a pigeon in middle school.

He was feelinglike he needed to fight at all costs, no vulnerabilities exposed. Where was his knife? There, in his belt. He snatched it out like it was food on a desert. He was gonna go. He was gonna go do--do something. Mary, betrayed him. Joseph, who couldn't possibly care about him. All he had was...

Val had reached out to him. He couldn't remember exactly when now, but it had to be a few weeks ago, maybe a month... maybe more... Maybe now it was too late to call back.

It wasn't that he was afraid of facing her, the most generous and loving person that he knew, despite some terrible words that might have been said. He was afraid of facing what her existence meant about him. He was afraid to face that his _existence_ was shitting on the world of someone as innocent as she was. He was afraid of her forgiveness, and he was afraid of her not understanding, and of him being too weak to accept that there was no understanding.

Robert yelled some guttural, animal howl, he must've been foaming at the mouth, he couldn't stand it.

"Hey guy, cool it?" Someone laughed, and when Robert looked over his shoulder, he saw a gaggle of her friends giggling along with her. Without a second thought, Robert marched towards them, hunched over and gripping his knife as though he was going to war.

As he got closer, the woman scowled. "Whoa, don't you come near me."

Robert halted abruptly, not because she told him to. Because of her long brown hair, her smoking eyes, the way she stood her ground.

How was it that, just as he was thinking of his daughter, she appeared in front of him inside of some night-crawling stranger?

She peered at him like he was a psycho. "Who is this guy?" She asked her friends, before nodding at him. "Yo Pops, better get on home, streets ain't safe, alright?"

Robert bristled, whip-lashing back to the present, to the frustration bursting out of his head. What business did a _stranger_ have being concerned about him? He didn't deserve the concern of his own daughter, and it was too late to ask for it. "So you like being a smart-ass!" He growled, for no more than the sake of being a jerk.

"Excuse me? Oh no, you need to back the hell up old man," She said, sauntering towards him, raising one red-taloned hand.

Before she could make her move, Robert snapped and threw a fist into her face.

While her friends gasped she stumbled back in crooked clunks of her heels, clutching her nose. Robert sucked a breath through his teeth, shook his hand, and then charged at her. His arms swung out to grab her in a tackle, but he careened past her as she ducked out of the way. He plowed face-first into gravel, skidding like a rock across a pond. Ending up on his back, Robert howled in exasperation, scrambling on his scraped palms to get to his feet. Something sharp dug into his ribs, and Robert was back on his ass, spitting out curses as two of the woman's friends pinned his arms under their shoes.

"Ugh, thank god, I thought my heel would be broken after that. You're lucky," The scrappy woman warned. Robert glared up at her, wincing as his blurred vision squeezed her into the shape of Val. She looked down at him, callous, fed up, massaging her hand like she was about to put it to good use. Probably on Robert's face.

" _Lucky?_ " Robert spit. "You know, you're right. I am lucky. I've had every chance in the world to be a good father, and even now the universe gives me the chance to be something decent. I'm just the kind of guy who takes lemonade and shits in it."

The woman wasn't sure what to make of it. Of course she wasn't. She wasn't really Val. It went to show he would have fucked up a call with her, too.

"Do pardon me, ladies and gentlemen!" A voice called from down the street. All of them turned to look, and Robert's heart twisted, wrung out like a towel. There was Damien.

He was sliding like a phantom on the descent. A safe distance away, Damien stopped, his cloak sweeping in a crescent around him. "I beg your pardon, but it appears there's been a grave misunderstanding. You see, that man there is my good friend."

"Yeah?" Not-Val probed. "He doesn't seem your type."

"Please, allow me to clear this up. I'm terribly sorry for the trouble he has caused you." Damien looked troubled himself. Robert felt like a bad dog. It was at this moment he would be tucking his tail between his legs. The shame of what he had done was really beginning to solidify now.

The woman nodded. "Alright." She signaled, and her friends released him. Robert groaned as his arms smarted where their heels had dug in.

"My gratitude is absolutely boundless," Damien sighed, stooping to clasp Robert's arms and help him up. Robert found himself caught up in Damien's gaze, knee-deep in tranquil purple irises that spread like butterfly wings, and cowering as they stretched from horizon to horizon.

As the gaggle of clubbers wandered off, Robert got a grip on himself and snorted. "I don't need your help, your pity, or your fake sympathy."

"Two of those are the same. And all I offer you is my friendship. You may accept, or decline." Damien wasn't letting go of Robert's arm, but Robert wasn't fighting him off, either. In fact, Damien's hands were light, his grip gentle. It made Robert uncomfortable. There had to be a lie in him, somewhere.

Damien's face was a shadow, until a lustrous smile brightened him up. "Would you care to walk me home?"

Robert blinked. "Hm?"

"It is a dangerous hour to be out on your own." Damien gingerly released his hold on Robert, and then extended one arm, curling it in an invitation.

Robert peered at the outstretched arm. Damien was asking _him_ to walk him home? He wasn't... chastising him? Robert swallowed, then slowly looped his through Damien's. Robert had forgotten how frozen he was until Damien's surprising warmth left him wanting more. 

They walked silently for a while, which suited Robert just fine. Robert lit a cigarette, Damien's arm moving fluidly with his as they remained connected. When Damien spoke, it was in a thoughtful purr that writhed a calm path with the smoke.

"Sometimes I feel like an old clown, but at least I'm making people smile either way."

Robert made some kind of confused grunt in response.

"Even if I truly am ridiculous and overdramatic, at the very least I make some people laugh. I know a lot of people may joke about my wardrobe, and the way I talk, and matters of that regard... This is the only way I know how to be, to be honest. Regardless of the reason, people smile because of it."

Robert eyed him over a long drag of his cigarette. "You care about other people too much."

Damien looked at Robert like a dog being shown the treat inside a toy. "I think you're right."

Robert grunted in confusion once again.

"You're right. I think that's been reflected in my art, you see. I haven't been very satisfied with my results... but... I think I care too much about making them for other people. When I'm creating my work, I don't care enough about myself." Damien swept around to face Robert, placing his hands on his shoulders. Robert felt jolted with the heat from his hands like they were defibrillator pads. "Thank you for helping me realize this, Robert."

Robert, overpowered, held his breath until he couldn't any longer, snatching his cigarette from his mouth and breaking away from Damien to lurch into the bushes. When he was done coughing, he managed to raise his head directly into the cloud of smog he had thrown up, and went down for another couple minutes. 

"Are you alright?" asked Damien. He brought his arm up like a blanket over Robert's back, rubbing him with a surprisingly large and comfortable hand.

"Yep," Robert coughed, finally straightening. He had lost his cigarette.

They continued walking. Neither of them initiated the arm-holding again. Robert thought it would be too awkward. It was a nice thought.

After a few moments of charitable silence, Robert found himself speaking. "You do art?"

"Most certainly. My current projects involve taxidermy. It is a uniquely fulfilling medium."

"Taxidermy, huh?" He thought about Betsy being a stuffed doll on his shelf, staring at him with her dead eyes day after day. "Not for me."

“Quite a grounding experience, being intimate with death and the dead.”

"I wouldn't say 'grounding' is the right word for it, but alright, Toni Canova."

"Pardon?"

Robert shrugged. "Obscure movie reference."

"Toni Canova? Where have I heard that name... And... Josepha? Ah!  _Toni!_  An old French film?"

Robert blinked in surprise. "Yes."

"Ha! Dare I suggest you are implying that I would kill for love?" Damien tried to hide his smile. "You seem more like a Toni to me. A hopeless, selfless romantic."

Robert blushed, overwhelmed and impressed and absolutely not allowing it. "No. Not me."

Damien laughed. “I've come to terms with the fact that I won’t feel comfortable about death until I  _feel_ it. Until I  _know_ it’s there. But wouldn't we all like to understand the mystery of death, before it descends upon us? And so I can’t help but contemplate that mysterious path, and explore it through the vicarious ways available to me in art and other forms of expression.”

Robert's lip curled. "You wanna "find yourself" as far away from death as possible, believe me." 

"Oh no, how insensitive of me. I didn't mean to... I am heartbroken for your loss." Damien placed his hand gently on Robert's arm.

Robert blushed and found himself feeling impossibly touched and offended all at once. He stole his hand away in a sweep of disgust. Damien's hand fell silently away as Robert felt all the shut doors he had left behind him rattle at their hinges, sucking and sucking through the vacuums at their edges, sucking him down the drain that led to a waterlogged blackness, in the center of which his wife Marilyn's crumpled body lay in one limp, flat line.

He felt Damien's hand slip into his. Robert whipped his head around to look at him. "Is this okay?" asked Damien.

Sirens were firing behind Robert's ears. Was this the power of a vampire? Was this how they disarm and seduce their victims? Damien wouldn't even have to feed on him to kill him; Robert would be sucked dry. 

"It's fine," coughed Robert. He would have to deal with the emotional intimacy if it meant protecting the citizens of Maple Bay from a vampire.

"How about we walk to the water?"

Robert shrugged in reply. As they made their way to the coast, Robert noticed the sky lifting around them. When he looked up at the water ahead of them, he gasped.

The sun was rising directly above the water. The sky was embraced by swathes of pink and gold, and danced under by the mischievously winking blue of the water. It was energizing in a way Robert was shocked to find he didn't recognize.

"That's remarkable. I guess I haven't seen the sun rise over the bay in such a long time.."

"Oh really? How come? All you had to do was walk yourself outside to see it."

The view of the ocean and sky together looked like a cats-eye jewel that glowed with the light of the sun sending shafts through it. They stood on the dock, silently appreciating it.

Vampires must not be as weak to sunlight as Robert thought. "Didn't you need to go home?"

"I regret that you are correct," Damien replied, "I am having such a good time. But yes, I should probably get home. Oh..."

"What?"

Damien's mouth crumpled as his gaze stepped carefully around Robert's face. "Your..." He sighed, the sound sweet through a delicately-formed smile. He reached into his cloak and drew out a hoity-toity cloth, all old-fashioned with frilly lace and everything. Robert twitched as Damien dabbed his face with it. "I'm afraid this isn't much, but perhaps you can make it home without scaring anyone. You look like you were engaged in a fight or something just as unbelievable!"

Robert blinked, then found himself chuckling despite himself. It was nice that Damien had not dragged up that stupid fight - Robert knew well enough he was an idiot for it. He was thankful the dawn bled into the world, made everything pink and orange - he could feel his cheeks turning red.

When they turned away from the sunrise, Robert felt the chill of the sun's shadow strike him, and he remembered that it hadn't always been there. 

 

 

 


	4. how does the mixer turn on again?

In the days leading up to both the Christiansen potluck and the Bloodmarch Masquerade, Robert found his thoughts increasingly consumed by them. The neighbors were all about the potluck, as always. It was like the entire town  _loved_ the Church and any of its events, even the lesser event that was the shindy in Joseph's backyard. Robert found that his inclination to miss the potluck was met with a kind of horror. Everybody was expecting him. It may have been flattering if it wasn't a little creepy. He had never had any reason in the past to miss any of the neighborhood parties. He had come to realize that if he didn't make an appearance at the potluck, everyone in the neighborhood would start poking their noses where they didn't belong. Still, there was no way he could go and not have to face Mary. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place if ever there was one. He had half-carved hunks of wood lying around, all products of his thought process, and had even started carving into whatever he could find like the backs of his chairs. Little animal limbs and heads and torsos frozen in wood and scattered over the battleground that was his living room floor. 

He could go to Joseph's party, which meant coming up with some way to make things up to Mary.

Or he could skip out on Joseph's and scope out Damien's, and get that much closer to nabbing a vampire and being worth something. He'd actually have something to talk about with Val, in the unlikely event that he did talk to her.

Robert felt less like he had slept at all and more like he had been soaking in a tub of frying oil for twelve hours. He chugged half a liter of diet coke that was lying by the couch and wondered what time it was. He hadn't bothered to get a new phone since he had chucked his off the overlook. Judging by the dimming light coming through his windows, it was later in the day than it should have been. Maybe he would just skip out on both parties. He began to lay back down, thinking that that was probably the best idea he had. Then he turned over and saw Betsy chewing on the invitation with the picture of Joseph's hellspawn laughing at him. 

He stumbled outside after putting himself together. He looked over at Joseph's place. It sounded like everyone was in the backyard.

Now or never. Go tell Mary about him and Joseph. Possibly never be alone in a room with Joseph again -- that thought had no business being as dreadful as it was.

Robert decided to give himself more time and walked in the opposite direction. Damien's house looked normal (for Damien's house), no decorations or visible preparations for the apparently huge gathering he was having. Robert would put money on maybe five people showing up.

He ended up walking to the drugstore nearby. Through the drugstore window he noticed none other than Damien, facing way from him and decked out in head-to-toe sun-blocking garb, talking to the cashier. It looked like he took off his sunglasses, and then the cashier... screamed silently. Robert watched as Damien calmly replaced his sunglasses, took his items and walked out of the store.

When he saw Robert, Damien smacked his hand over his own mouth like people did when they were embarrassed about their smile. "Oh, hi, Robert." he greeted without his usual charm, sliding past Robert, who was still standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Damien seemed really distressed, Robert thought as Damien shied back towards the neighborhood. Before he could get too far, Robert called out: "Hey!" Damien turned around, and Robert hesitated as he grappled for what to say next. "What're--uh, what're you hiding under those sunglasses?" Awkward, desperate joke or offensive remark? Robert was serving up offense-veiled-with-humor, neatly in a bow. His favorite. 

"What?"

Damien was looking so pitifully upset that Robert had to back out. "Never mind." He started to turn back towards the drugstore.

"Wait. You saw what happened in there?"

Robert turned back toward Damien. He nodded.

Damien was holding his hands nervously. "He... said something... hateful, to me. So I took off my sunglasses," Damien removed them, his eyes closed and face suddenly stern, "stared him in the eye," his eyes snapped open, "and told him to never talk to me outside of necessary professional conversation again." 

Robert felt as if the wind had whipped up as Damien spoke, and settled again once he fell quiet. Robert looked past Damien, over at the cashier through the window. They had tied their button-up shirt around their waist, leaving just an undershirt. There was a puddle on the floor.

"I won't talk to you outside of necessary professional conversation again," blinked Robert. "You've convinced me."

"Oh, no, not you!" laughed Damien. " _You_ can talk to me all you want. I enjoy your company."

"I can talk to you all I want. You enjoy my company." Robert grinned.

They walked back to Damien's front porch together. Damien turned on the step and asked if Robert wanted to come inside.

"That sounds good but, maybe next time..." Robert's brain refused to let him forget about Mary. 

Damien leaned forward, close enough for his hair to fall on Robert's shoulder. "I promise it'll be quick."

Robert stared into Damien's eyes...they seemed to glow, and... "What?"

"I do have to get back to last minute preparations, but I could take a break for a little longer, is what I mean," Damien raised an eyebrow.

Robert felt himself drawn in with Damien's breath. That look on Damien's face was not unfamiliar: this man either wanted to bang Robert, or to eat him. Robert wasn't sure he entirely objected. "That... sounds..." His words felt meaningless as their lips crept closer. 

"Robert!"

Robert felt himself snap to reality. He couldn't believe that had almost happened. He felt himself turn to see Joseph standing in Damien's lawn.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Robert groaned. "Hey, we're kinda busy over here!" He enjoyed Joseph seeing him like this, with someone else. Damien was watching Joseph curiously.

Joseph's big, fake grin spread like a set of wings over his face. "Just wanted to let you know that we miss you at the potluck! The desserts are coming out soon!"

Robert spoke loudly and clearly so that Joseph would understand. "I DON'T GIVE A CRAP."

Joseph sighed. 

Robert shook his head and rubbed his face. If he didn't go to the potluck now, he might never patch things up with Mary. "Right. I've gotta get outta here. See ya, Damien." He swept himself off Damien's porch. 

"I certainly will hope to see you," Damien's voice faded behind him.

"You gonna thank me for the rescue, big guy?" said Joseph on the way back. He slipped his arm around Robert, a familiar corner to tuck into.

"Ugh, rescue?" Robert rolled his eyes.

"Yep, I just saved you from yourself back there, sport. And there's more to him than you might think." Joseph showed Robert through the house and to the kitchen. "Plus, I made you pineapple bars! I wanted you to eat them before everyone else comes inside." 

"Wow. That's... Great, Joseph." Robert was touched, but he refrained from taking a bar, and instead looked pointedly at Joseph. "Whiskey?"

Joseph held the tray of bars silently for a moment. "Sure!" He retrieved the bottle Robert knew he had and poured a glass. Robert took the bottle. He was going to need all the liquid courage he could get before going to find Mary. Joseph watched Robert with a weird and twisted-up concern before sighing.

"Listen, I need you to stop hanging around Damien. I've seen what you're up to, and I know you're smarter than that. There are things you don't know." In typical Joseph fashion, whatever excuses he had seemed to tumble out of him all at once.

"Uh?" Robert dribbled. "You need  _me_? You need  _me_ to stop hanging with Damien?" Robert took another swig. "You... need me... That's funny..."

"I'm looking out for you, Robert. Think of it this way: How does cryptid hunting always turn out for you?" Joseph's brow folded in something that mimicked concern.

Robert stared at Joseph, one side of his lip frozen in a half-snarl. Until Damien had appeared, Robert had stayed away from cryptid hunting, for a reason. He knew that. It only served to pile on the misery in wasted efforts, reminding him that the one of the only things he actually enjoyed was the same thing that kept him isolated and despised. But Joseph didn't have to be _right._ After all, Joseph was just another face of the same coin - fooling around with him was plain _misery._

The snarl must have been enough to make Joseph back down. He looked down and sighed. "All that aside. I don't want to see you get hurt." Joseph's hand snuck right up to Robert's, a prick of static jumping unannounced between their fingers. It was only after a delay, after feeling the inhumanly soft pads of Joseph's hands, that Robert yanked his hand back.

"That's _rich_." Robert wanted to scream at him, to say  _So you don't want to see me get hurt, unless it's you doing the hurting?_ but he couldn't let himself be such a towel. "Don't you get tired of selling seats for the Good-Pastor-Dad bit? 'Cause I'll tell you," Robert growled, leaning in, "I haven't been buying for a long time."

That seemed to dig in; the look on Joseph's face fluttered into something darker, unholy. "You have no idea what the Church does to keep this town safe, Robert. Which is why I need you to stay away from Damien."

"Oh, Jesus,  _'the Chuuurch',_ " Robert whined, tossing and pacing like an animal. "That's just the ultimate excuse to you, isn't it? Why do they give a damn what I do and who I do it with? Oh, are _they_ jealous? Is the Church _jealous_ of Damien?" Robert stared wild into Joseph's eyes, looking for a glimmer of confirmation.

And Joseph - Joseph _smiled._ Like a schemer getting closer to his endgame. "Keep it down."

"FUCK that!" Robert downed the rest of the whiskey - wasn't about to waste good whiskey - and threw the bottle shattering into the floor. 

They both stood staring each other down. The noise from the backyard filtered through, a low hum of other-worldly voices and music. "They _know_." Joseph looked carefully at Robert. Then, "They know he's a vampire. And so do you."

Robert froze. Damien _was_ a vampire. His suspicions were confirmed--but not by anybody he wanted to believe. Mary blew him off, but here Joseph was, giving him the validation he had been deprived of, and it was coming from the _Church._  "What kind of sick world is this?" He said to the floor. Was he on the same side as the Church _?_ He looked down at his hands, wondering when his own ooze would simply burst out of him.

"You should keep your distance." Joseph's eyebrows sparked. He grabbed a rag and started mopping up the pieces of glass.

"From _Damien?_ " Robert found himself defending the _vampire_ , but if it was against something as oppressive as the Church (with Joseph and Mary's marriage a clear result of their teachings), then so be it. "He is... actually one of the most compassionate people I've ever met." Robert paused, surprised with his own revelation. "He is not a monster." Joseph stood, and Robert looked him up and down. "Not like you."

A warm grin broke out over Joseph's face. "Hey, kids!"

The twins ran inside, and Joseph dropped the evidence of Robert's outburst in the trash. The twins started crawling all over the walls in stop-motion like that girl from the Ring. Robert glared hard at the trash can; he felt himself shaking as he tried to keep himself under control.

“Dad, how come there’s no blondies?” The twin in the dress said as she hung off the kitchen counter. Robert found himself distracted by his fatherly urge to get her safely back on the floor.

“Sweetie, you asked for brownies this time. Be careful near that outlet, you might get shocked."

“No, Christian wanted brownies… I wanted blondies.” She proceeded to get closer to the outlet. Robert looked from her to Joseph, wondering what kind of intense self-control he had to be able to keep himself from snatching her away.

Joseph raised his eyebrows and watched her patiently. “We can do blondies next time little muffin. You know what happened the last time you were near that outlet.”

She got her face closer and closer to the outlet; Robert's daddy-sense was going off so violently that he was twitching. She was just about to smash her face against it when Joseph swooped in, scooped her up in his arms, and started tickling her. "You'll get SHOOOCKED!" Joseph and his daughter cackled in unison. The boy twin got caught in their crossfire, and the three of them giggled maniacally. Robert was sweating.

When Joseph set them down, he finally told them to go wait outside for the desserts. To Robert's dismay, they both stood their ground and stared up at him silently. Their small mouths pulled into a stiff lines, which may have been some sort of creepy pouting.

Joseph ended up setting the twins at the counter with ingredients and mixing bowls, petting their heads fondly before he joined Robert on the other side of the island. “Okay kids, go nuts.”

Robert was interrogating himself as he watched them arrange themselves. Why stay here? Was it now confirmed, was Damien really a vampire, and did he really need Joseph's reassurance? Should he even give Joseph the chance to explain his bullshit? And after all this, did he even have the emotional energy to face Mary? 

“So, you were saying how sorry you were you won't be able to make it to Damien's ' _masquerade'_  tonight?” Joseph prompted, as jovial as a boy with one hand in the cookie jar. In their close proximity, Robert swore he saw Joseph's skin cracking, like a layer of stone he hid himself under. He waited for the stench of rot, but he smelled only lavender and sea salt.

Robert chewed the inside of his cheek, aching for a cigarette. Joseph’s gleaming innocence was never real, but damn if Robert wasn’t a fool for even wanting to fall for it. He loved that he had the excuse of alcohol to cower behind. “I'm not going to play your game," Robert grumbled, pleased with himself. He watched as the twins poured more sugar onto the floor than into the measuring cup. The two tried so hard to be creepy or evil, but there was no hiding that angelic goofiness. "Hey spawnlings, your mom outside?"

"No," said boy twin, scooping the sugar from off the floor and into the mixing bowl. 

“Mary's not here right now,” Joseph murmured, a sing-song whisper neatly in direct opposition with the twins’ nature; it was as conspiratorial as it was wholesome. Robert felt the failure of his mission closing in; if he didn't find Mary, he would have exhausted himself through this potluck for no reason, getting only one belly's worth of alcohol out of it. Joseph continued, "but I'm sure she'd agree. You don't want to be near that party tonight." His voice dropped to a murmur. "We know that Damien is a vampire, and so we know that that party isn't going to be a Bible study. No, the exact opposite. It'll be a study--a study in sin... That could be the title of a book. No, we know these 'old friends' Damien's been talking about, who'll be attending? We know that they can only be a certain kind of person."

"Not anyone like you, apparently, so I'd consider him lucky," Robert gnawed at Joseph, threatening to bite his nose off if he got any closer. What Joseph implied had crossed Robert's mind: the Bloodmarch party was going to be a gathering of vampires. And what did vampires do best, according to pop culture and media? Indulge their dead desires. Feast on the only nourishment that had not lost its effect on their undead bodies. Did Damien want Robert to be his next victim, did Robert smell particularly decadent? Robert began to feel a prickle under his skin, crawling up his spine, and then up his leg - Wait. _That wasn’t a hand on his thigh, was it?_ He was drunk, he was feeling things. He cleared his throat and glanced at Joseph, who was resting his chin in one hand while he watched his kids. And, yes, his other hand was on Robert’s thigh, inching up - it might as well have been a dripping poltergeist, each finger a fang dragging over his pants, one wrong move and they would pierce straight through his skin. Robert almost immediately sank into feelings he hadn't felt for too long. It was like a high after being sober for a long stretch of desert; the watering hole in the eye of a mirage, and he almost collapsed at it. Joseph was touching him, and he felt the wings suspended in his mind's eye unfold, moving, disembodied, floating up his leg. 

Robert looked back at the kids. His clothes were suddenly stifling. He wondered if that was the whiskey coming back up. One of the twins stared back at him as she stirred a bowl.

“At least entertain me and tell me you've taken some precautions,” Joseph said at a normal volume, conversational, and there was no reason for the words to be as jarring as they were. His voice was pure silk, as creamy and decadent as the oil one of the twins poured into a spoon.

Robert swallowed, his jaw glued shut. Suddenly, fingers were digging into his ass and Robert stifled a grunt. He glared, wide-eyed, at the side of Joseph’s face. " _Here?_   _Now? Really?"_ he croaked.

“Honey, why don’t you put everything into the bowl that goes into the mixer,” Joseph sang to the twins, motioning at the appliance before sinking his chin back into his palm. His other hand slowly released Robert’s ass, and before he could decide if it was a good thing or not, that hand sank between Robert’s legs. Robert sucked in a breath as heat radiated from Joseph’s touch; his fingers were soft, floating over the fabric of Robert’s jeans and following the curve of his ass all the way to _everything_ in front. “Sorry,” Another blow from that sickly sweet voice -- “You were saying, Robert?” The bastard wasn’t even smiling.

Robert was faced with a burning question: should he compromise whatever dignity he had left and enjoy this moment with Joseph, something that would keep him company for at least the next night or two, before he would inevitably stumble back into his cycle of self-hatred? He stared hard at Joseph, who looked at him with an expression he recognized from fluttering memories. Was this why Joseph wanted Robert to come to the potluck so badly? Did he want him--badly? 

He answered it, distracted by the euphoria humming in his pants, a resounding yes.

Joseph’s hand snagged onto Robert’s zipper and yanked it down.

“ _Joseph_ , _could we at least go upstairs?_ ” Robert hissed, his face burning. Joseph turned to him, hiding his grin behind his hand for only Robert to see.

“Don't you want to hang out with Christian and Christie?” Joseph said loudly. He traced the shape of Robert’s dick through his underwear with two fingertips, gliding, threatening. He raised his other hand towards the children. "Hi-five!" Then his fingers pressed in the semi-soft shaft of his dick and he could feel himself twitch involuntarily -- dreading, _wanting._ There was nothing he could do to stop it from _swelling_ , with heat and the kind of trepidation that was exclusively Joseph; eyes blue and dulled by painful desire, lips with the smell of sour cherries, unreachable. His eyes were stiffly on the counter while the kids continued following along with the recipe and ignored their father's gesture.

"Alriiight!" Joseph chuckled, finally abandoning the rejected hi-five. Then, the feeling of Joseph’s bare fingers, his _skin_ , brushed against Robert's dick like a flicker of flame. Robert bit his lip hard, sucking in a breath as Joseph’s fingers nudged in further, curling around him, until he coaxed Robert’s dick to hang out of his pants, swinging in the air trapped in that pristine family kitchen.

The twins gasped as one of them dropped a plastic measuring cup on the floor. Robert’s nails were digging into his own arms. Joseph barely raised his eyebrows.

“Oops! That’s okay, we have more, just throw it in the sink.” Joseph’s chuckle was forced and hearty. His palm skated slowly down the length of Robert’s hardening dick. The almost indiscernible noise of it was like a snake slithering.

“Dad, how does the mixer turn on again?” One of the twins said, fumbling with it while the other dropped the cup into the sink with a loud, ringing clatter. Every scrape of dishes on the counter was a hellish symphony in Robert’s ears.

Joseph smiled fondly at his kid. “Mr. Small can show you. Right?” His brilliant, margarita-blue eyes slid onto Robert. “You are closer! Turn it on, would you mind, sport?”

Somehow Robert got stuck on the shape of Joseph’s mouth around _turn it on_. Robert’s mouth was dry, barren, a desert. All resources had drained into the dick Joseph was cradling, directing.

Robert leaned over the counter. The twins stared at him from a distance. He reached out, and he clicked the bowl into place, and a finger swiped over the head of his cock. Robert nearly gagged on the heat rising up his neck. He looked back at Joseph, incredulous, but the man looked at him unknowingly, as if in wonder about whether Robert really knew how to turn on the damn _mixer._

Robert pressed the power button and the mixer whirred to life at the same time that Joseph’s hand coiled full around his dick and squeezed. Collapsing back to their side, Robert slapped one fist onto the counter and faced Joseph nose-to-nose. The mixer blared, deafening, between them and the twins.

“ _Joseph, just tell me where I can find Mary,_ ” Robert hissed, conflicted as he struggled against his own desires, his string of words dripping sweat, his tongue becoming drenched with numbing saliva as soon as Joseph began pumping his hand up his dick. Robert’s mouth clamped shut, eyes wide, and Joseph’s soft gaze of clemency bored into him. Poisoned him. Turned the rest of the world into a hazy mush.

A breath shuddered through Robert’s grit teeth, caught in the narrow space between their mouths. The wonder of Joseph cascaded through his dick, his thighs, swirled in unfair tangles of maverick impulses with every stroke - and _fuck,_ was it rough. Joseph was anything but merciful.

Robert tipped his head closer to Joseph’s, felt the heat of Joseph’s cheek on his lips. He breathed, “Is this your idea of _dessert?_ ” He immediately hated himself for saying it as much as he relished taunting Joseph. Egging him on.

The edge of Joseph’s lips parted in a smile like sticky, white icing. His gaze darted to Robert’s, and Robert received his reward in the form of a red-hot wink.

Then Joseph's hand began pumping faster than Robert’s revving heart could hope to keep up with.

A groan scraped into a tangle at the top of Robert’s throat as his cheeks puffed out, his hands clasping together on top of the counter, wringing like the insides of his stomach.

Then the mixer turned off, and Robert twisted his vision out of the damp haze to see the twins staring at them.

At this point, it was all too obvious that Joseph was doing something under the counter - his arm was moving back and forth vigorously all the way up to his shoulder. A mortified chill slithered up Robert’s spine.

“You know where the baking pans are, sunshine!” Joseph glimmered, cheeks as bright as goddamn peaches.

“ _Joseph -_ ” Robert hissed again, this time clamping a shaking hand onto Joseph's wrist. He could feel the tendons, the robust muscle of Joseph’s forearm, hard at work. _Hard_. Robert’s mouth felt dry and yet he had to keep swallowing or else salivate all over the counter, his fingers were numb, slipping over Joseph’s wrist, palms sweaty, and Joseph only went _faster -_

A pair of heels stomped into the kitchen, and Mary was at the end of them, not a wine glass in sight, instead replaced by the handle of a suitcase. Robert immediately pushed away from Joseph but was crushed up against him instead, one hand gripping Joseph’s shoulder for balance while his dick throbbed painfully, bruising under the fingers wrapped around it like a snare trap.

Mary's eyes were points of spikes at the bottom of a long, harrowing drop. "Thanks. I needed a little, little reminder of why I'm leaving again." She smacked her lips. "Just perfect." She turned and curled her lip at Joseph. "I thought you were better than dragging him into this fucked up family."

"You're leaving?" Robert gasped as Joseph abruptly yanked him by his dick. Robert grabbed him with both hands by the arm, but Joseph met Robert's strength in his own grip. 

“Hey honey. The kids almost have their treats ready to bake in the oven! How are the potluck activities? Is there enough juice?” Joseph said. There was a different kind of animalistic flare in the distilled brew of his eyes.

"You are in  _denial._ " Mary growled at Joseph, and then looked sadly at Robert, shaking her head. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into." Robert wanted to insist _Wait_ _, it’s been done, ever since…_ When was _since?_ Mary's head kept shaking faster. "I can't be here for this." 

It took him a moment to realize how he must have looked; sweating, flushed, guilty as all living hell. Between the tremors of pain-infused arousal, Robert managed, “I-”

Joseph pulled on Robert again. "Don't worry, Mary! He's had a little too much of the whoopsie juice, so I'm taking care of him until he feels better."

"Mary, don't leave," Robert said between Joseph's struggled movements to stroke his dick.

"Mommy, don't leave!" the twins repeated, suddenly shrieking. 

"Oh, god damn it," Mary sighed, falling to her knees in front of them as they reached out for her.

"Why are you leaving?" they cried. Mary combed her fingers through the two blond heads of hair. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm not  _leaving_ leaving. I'm just going to go exploring for a while, like Dora. But I'll be back. If you want to cry, it's okay. Mommy will be here for you in all the ways that she can, and she'll do her best to help you understand that, alright?" Her voice was monotone and robotic, though her words felt like something Robert never even came close to telling Val.

"What about Chris and Crish?" one of them asked.

"I'm going to come back to say good-bye to them, and you, don't worry." She kissed each of their foreheads and stood to look at Joseph and Robert. "I just have to leave right now." She then looked at just Robert. "Like I said, no reason to stay here any more. My last friend couldn't trust me." She glanced down at the twins. "Don't be friends with liars, kids." She then turned to leave.

"Mary, I don't think it's as doomed as you think--" Joseph started. Robert wondered what kind of conversations Mary and Joseph had been having behind closed doors. 

Mary whipped around. "Don't. I know I'm right, Joseph." She looked a Robert again. "Robert doesn't belong in our deplorable trap of a family. _They_ will see that, too."

"They?" bleated Robert.

"Yeah." Mary cut Joseph off before he could reply. "Listen, Robert. I know you like Damien. I've seen him, he's a good guy. The Church doesn't know what they're talking about. If you care about Damien at all, you can't do..." she looked down at the counter. "Whatever it is you're doing. With this." She grimaced at Joseph. "And rest assured, all of this whoopee cat-and-mouse crap he has you in? Surprise, it's all a part of his God-given job."

Joseph said, "Mary, we all know what Damien Bloodmarch _is_ , so you can stop pretending he's human--"

"No. Don't talk to me. As it is, I've stopped pretending _you're_ human. Robert," she looked at him one last time and then looked away before she muttered, "bye. Bye, kids, keep it creepy for me." 

"Mary!" Robert moved to go after her as she rolled out the door, but Joseph held him fast by his now extremely sweaty, flaccid dick. 

"Dad, you're not a human?" asked one of the twins as both of their eyes grew wide. 

"Hey kids!" Joseph leaned forward over the counter. "Let's finish making the blondies so we can go check on the party guests, okay? It's okay, you heard Mommy, she'll be back."

"I don't feel like baking any more..." said one twin.

"You heard what Mom said. Let's go keep it creepy," the other one whispered. Paying no further heed to Joseph or Robert, they fell completely silent and walked as slowly as possible out the back door. 

"How can you be so cool with this, Joseph?!" Robert said through gritted teeth, shaking his hands at Joseph. "And please  _let go._ " He was trembling, itching to peel off after Mary - and then he heard the sound of a car starting and squealing out of the driveway.

Joseph finally released his dick. Robert exhaled with loud relief, sorely tucking it in and zipping it up. Joseph was looking down and didn't answer for a long moment. Finally he decided on, "She couldn't stand us being together. And I couldn't stand us being apart any longer." He shrugged sadly. "Y'know what the kids say. YOLO."

"How could you let Mary leave?! What shit are you dragging me into?" Robert snarled. "What is Mary escaping from?"

"Look. It's true, our relationship... us... we can't be public about it. Not yet. The way the Church does things..." Joseph lifted a hand to Robert's cheek and looked into his eyes, pulling him by strings he never wanted to be aware of. 

"Just _STOP!_ " Robert tore back, away from Joseph. For what he again hoped would be the last time, he decided he couldn't tolerate any amount of Joseph's fake games any longer. He let Mary _go_ , just like that, and kept Robert from reaching her. He roared in exasperation, smacked a measuring cup off of the counter as he passed, and stormed through the back door before Joseph could make him do any more fucking tricks.

 


	5. what's love if you're not a little afraid for your life?

Robert stormed out of the Christensen’s house and plunged through town to a bar that was notably not Jim & Kim's, and in the next moment he found himself having drunk entirely too much--which was not nearly enough, to be honest.

He mulled over the question: was Damien really a vampire? Was he actually right? Was that real?

This was the first time one of his conspiracy theories hadn't let him down and, especially if it meant sticking it to Joseph along the way, he would follow through and trust his instincts.

He stepped out of the bar and onto a street long erased under the shadow of the sun. As he approached, Damien’s house loomed like a forest. The entire cul-de-sac fell into ruin around it. Damien’s house at least looked like it was weird on purpose. The homes behind him by contrast looked pathetically unfit, a place of repetitive mistakes.

Red lights flashed from the windows around moving silhouettes. Robert walked up the porch and wondered if he should knock or if he should just let himself in. He tried knocking, then decided to just open the door. He stepped inside.

“Watch it, darkling,” purred a guest as Robert bounced off the person’s shirtless pectorals. He was quickly swallowed by the crowd. Porcelain masks and silver clasps glowed and danced in layers of dots that faded in and out of his vision. Something that smelled like baked pineapple spread through Robert like cough medicine. The music moved like slow footsteps, a gentle but invigorating hum. It appeared that nearly all of the party's guests were professional dancers in all kinds of outrageous costumes. They weaved in and out of each other in dances out of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. Between the acrobatic twists and spins, Robert couldn't tell if some people were doing performance art or being eaten. He kept his guard up.

“What a good evening for pleasure, my sweet--care to dance?” A man dressed in a Victorian suit swept himself around Robert suddenly, pulling him into a dance step before Robert could defend himself.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Robert stiffened, but something about the man made him want to keep dancing. 

"Maybe, but not for long," the man said, leaning in towards Robert's neck.

"Ah, Victor! I see you've met my friend, Robert." 

Robert blinked. He realized he was in a strangely compromising position with a stranger and Damien had just appeared. 

"Your friend?" said Victor. "Like a familiar?" Victor straightened, steadying Robert back on his feet. Robert fixed his jacket hesitantly. 

"Haha, naturally," Damien replied. "Robert, this is Victor."

"I'm Damien's ex boyfriend." Victor winked.  _Oh._ "But I'm sure he's told you all about me. If it weren't for me, he wouldn't be who he is today, isn't that right, Damien?"

Damien rolled his eyes. Robert had never seen him annoyed like that before. It was oddly cute. "You are quite the entertainer, Victor. Do excuse us. Robert?" Damien held out his arm. Robert took it cautiously, eyeing Victor as they walked away. "Fashionably late, I see."

Robert grunted. "That Victor guy was kinda weird, huh? He seemed real interested in my neck. Wanna tell me what that's all about?"

"Oh, you know Victor, one of those types..." Damien replied nervously. 

"What kind of a party is this?" Robert shot. 

"It's a masquerade, but it's quite alright you didn't come in costume. Your charming self is lively enough." Damien was leading him through the dancers. The inside of his house had been transformed into a ballroom. There was a live string band in the corner; all of its members looked impossibly  _old._

Robert felt his suspicion rise into anger. "Why did you invite me here?"

Damien blinked. "I-I... Why, Robert--"

Before Damien could finish, Robert interrupted. "Is that... _Hugo's kid?_ " Hugo was one of the only neighbors that could make Robert genuinely laugh. And his kid was in a house full of vampires.

The kid walked right up to Damien. He was dragging a cooler behind him. "Hey, you seen Lucien?"

"Ah, dear Ernest. I believe last I saw my Lucien, he was looking for you... Ah, there he is." Robert stared as Damien waved Lucien over. He was trying to comprehend Ernest's presence, fighting the urge to throw his body on top of Ernest's as a shield.

"Hey, familiar," Lucien nodded at Ernest. "Got the goods?"

"Right here," Ernest said, kicking the cooler. 

"Great. Let's go set up the blood fountain."

"Blood fountain?" Robert asked as Lucien and Ernest disappeared through the crowd.

"Oh, worry not," Damien hesitated. "It's rejected blood."

"Damien..." Now Robert was realizing just how much he had come to hope that Damien wasn't a vampire, that Joseph was wrong, that Damien was just a nice, eccentric, _human_ man that Robert could possibly date or something. He seized Damien's shoulders. "Are you a  _vampire?"_

Damien raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Why, yes, but I do think that's a rather insensitive thing to just ask like that, don't you?"

" _Me,_ insensitive?" Robert spat. "I shouldn't have to  _ask_ someone if they're a vampire - you should just tell me up front!"

"Why do I owe you that?" Damien's lip curled with disapproval. "You think my being a vampire should change things between us? The only thing it changes is the way people tend to treat me. I am who I say I am, Robert. I should hope the same of you." His eyes were treading on Robert's for a moment. "Please show yourself out."

Reeling, Robert stumbled out of the house, trying to catch his breath. Damien's words started to settle in his mind. 

Was he being the asshole? What did he know about vampires, other than what was in movies and commercials and what people said about them? Looking back, he seemed like an ignorant jerk who had a lot to learn about what being human actually meant.

He turned back towards the house, eliminating the front door as an option for reentrance -- too obvious, and Robert was an expert at the breaking-and-entering game.

He had hauled himself up beside a gargoyle guarding one of the windows to the library. He scrambled to situate himself onto the awkward space, slipping once and struggling in slow, ugly movements of pain.

When Robert finally had himself situated in an interesting crouch, he looked through the window to see Damien watching him, standing in the middle of the library.

Robert teetered on the edge of the windowsill as he precariously maneuvered to reach his hand out towards the latch. Finally managing to touch it, Robert struggled for a while as his fingers pulsed helplessly. When he almost lost his balance and fell, he flung himself into a more restricting position on the windowsill, limbs shaking as he tried to stay upright. He then locked eyes with Damien, who seemed to be watching with fascinated concern. Robert hit his knee weakly against the window and jerked his head towards the latch.

“Please open the window?” Robert gritted his teeth desperately.

"I asked you to leave," pointed out Damien.

"I-I know, but--jesus, can you just open the window and I can tell you inside?"

"Fine." Damien stepped forward and undid the latch.

It was another ten minutes before Robert had managed to maneuver his body around the shutters to climb in.

When Robert looked up, Damien was still watching with a detached look. He saw Damien’s nose twitch, as if he could smell something like alcohol or Joseph’s cologne. The most aching thing about it was that there was no disappointment on Damien’s face, no judgment. He just looked concerned for Robert’s wellbeing or some shit. He had probably been going through the checklist in his head that he had whenever he was checking up on animals at the vet.

“Hey, I came to apologize.” Robert coughed after he ran his hands through his hair a couple times.

"For making an embarrassment of yourself?" Damien crossed his arms. 

"...Yeah," Robert mumbled. "I didn't know." He shrugged. "Sorry. Look." He pulled a bottle of wine from the inside pocket of his jacket. "I brought this to make it up." Damien stared at him. "What, you don't drink white zinfandel?"

"Well, I don't, but... I could." Damien said carefully. He seemed impressed, if only slightly.

Robert twisted off the top of the bottle and held it out for Damien. "First goes to you." Damien took the bottle and couldn't help but grin.

"A toast to my most human and down-to-earth friend," said Damien before tilting his head back and taking a large gulp. When he surfaced, his eyes widened at Robert. "That feels  _good._ "

"Heh. Drink much?"

"Not alcohol, no," Damien replied.

"Well then, uh... To drinking more alcohol." Robert jerked the bottle up before downing half of it.

They ended up sprawled on the chesterfield couch, draining the bottle quickly.

"Uh, so..." Robert hiccuped after a gentle period of silence. "Hate to ask, but like... have you thought of how I might taste?" The words came out in completely the wrong way, but at least it sounded politically correct.

They both blushed. "Well, Robert, I think you might have to clarify what you mean," Damien said carefully. His eyes would not leave Robert's lips. 

 "Y'know, I've never kissed a vampire," Robert found himself saying.

"That much was obvious." Damien grinned. His face was closer.

"If I kiss you, will you bite me?" Robert's lips almost brushed against Damien's.

"I'll try not--" Damien's voice was smothered beneath Robert's mouth. Damien pushed back desperately against Robert, and their limbs flailed as they grappled with each others' reality. Robert pushed his hands through cool strips of straight black hair, Damien's fingers digging into Robert's; their mouths continued smashing into each other, Robert achingly conscious of what Damien's fangs might feel like.

“I get in this trance when I'm with you," Robert poured over Damien, "like you've got me under some spell, and I don't want out."

“I'm helping you see through your spell.” Damien leaned back, throwing his arms on the pillow behind him, his hair splayed out - Robert had ended up on top of him. 

Robert blushed genuinely. He felt like gushing. “You’re like… pineapple on pizza.”

“Um, pardon?” Damien's finger crawled absently up Robert's chin.

“I… can’t explain it. But I like pineapple on pizza. Irreparably. In a world where so many people misunderstand it.” Robert felt like he was going on pathetically, uncontrollably.

Damien locked his hands around Robert's neck and started kissing him again. With every kiss Robert experienced a pleasurable pain, like a warm burn down his throat, the imagined puncture of fangs giving him ghost wounds. He wanted to entice him further, egg him on, his hand crawling up and up Damien’s thigh, moving in a crescent-moon shape over his hips and to the button on his pants. Robert moved his lips to Damien’s neck as he slid his hand against his skin, kneading his fingers through a patch of hair and spreading his palm against Damien’s dick.

“Ah, your hand is cold,” Damien curled beneath Robert, slipping his hands beneath Robert's shirt. “Feels good.”

Robert brushed his fingers along the undulant length of Damien’s dick, tucking his lips against Damien’s neck and paying close attention to the hot breath he felt on his skin. He stroked Damien up, and their bodies moved up together, Damien's hips grinding against Robert's. Damien's hands curved over Robert's chest, squeezing him, as Robert stroked down, their bodies exhaling into the couch.

“These pants are tight as hell. They look good on you, but fuck.” Robert whispered against Damien, inching his pants down and finally yanking them off.

“All the better to get you in close, my dear.” Damien sighed, stretching out on the couch. Robert found himself quickly undoing his belt and stepping out of his jeans.

“You're the Big Bad of my dreams.” Robert laughed gruffly as he found Damien’s dick again, squeezing and exploring its width.

“The kettle’s black.”

Robert laughed nervously. That was something Mary had said. “What?”

Damien met Robert with a kiss, and then Robert felt a pair of smooth hands fondle his dick out of his boxers. He breathed in deeply, polishing Robert’s dick in smooth strokes. When he gently stopped, Robert opened his eyes to see Damien pulling a bottle of lube out from a drawer beside the sofa.

Damien bit his lip. Robert grabbed the lube, crushed it out of the bottle, and jammed it onto his dick as he grabbed Damien for a kiss. Damien fell into him as he stuck to fingers up Damien's ass, lathering him up between his legs. He grabbed the insides of his thighs, savoring him, almost forgetting about the possibility of Damien's fangs until he scraped his bottom lip with a long, hard pull. Their kiss fell apart, Damien leaning his head back. Robert stared in awe as Damien's teeth grew into fangs in front of him. He was suddenly scared shitless.

"Take me, Robert," Damien begged, grabbing his own dick and pushing his ass down against Robert. Robert slammed down and kissed him, and Damien's fangs bit down.

Robert cried out in a howl, and Damien grinded his ass against him. He pulled him back down, kissing him again with hungry scoops of his lips. Robert's fists found themselves in Damien's hair, thumping the couch against the floor as he pressed his hips into Damien. Robert peeled his ass apart and massaged them in fistfuls. Damien puffed and writhed beneath him, grabbing onto Robert and onto the couch. Robert rubbed his hands up and down Damien’s waist, pushing his vest and shirt up and peeking at translucent skin.

Robert held Damien right by the sweet spots of his hips, growling happily as he relished every pulse inside Damien. “Ooh-- Robert--” Damien uttered, finally cumming. Robert pushed into it, following Damien’s movement. As Damien came down, so did Robert, gently pulling out of Damien and letting him rest for a moment before he pushed him to the side and laid down with him. He brought his palm up over Damien's stomach, coming to rest on his chest. Damien was pale under the soft moonlight, his mouth pouted and fangless. It was all he remembered before he fell into a comfortable darkness.

 

 

\--

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he groggily opened his eyes, vision still fuzzy with alcohol. Robert decided to make himself and his feelings scarce. He clambered out of the window as quietly as possible, regretting that he could not manage to latch it shut before plummeting to the ground.

It was eerily quiet. Had all the guests left? Cars were no longer congesting the street. Good, Robert would’ve had any car parked in front of his house towed.

As he stood in front of his door looking for his house key, suddenly the world went black.


	6. electric love

“Wha…. What the…. What the fuck?!” Robert felt compelled to scream as he became aware of the straps around his arms and legs keeping him fastened to a cold, hard chair. He felt small, slimy suction cups resting in two places on his forehead where horns might be. "Whoa. Damien?" He peered into the darkness. "Is this some weird kinky shit? The electrodes are a nice touch. I'm into it."

A man, clad in black, stepped into a cut of the light that cleaved through where Robert sat. Joseph's face was carved from the shadow, piercing through a fog canvas. 

Robert blinked, looking up and down at the full-on priest attire Joseph was wearing. He was having trouble grasping what was going on. "Aren't you supposed to say 'Smile, you're on Candid Camera'?"

Joseph looked down, strikingly troubled. Robert hadn't seen Joseph look anything close to that for years. He might feel empathy if he weren't tied to a chair and forced to watch. Joseph's voice was somber when he spoke. “You should have listened to me, Robert. This shouldn't have happened..."

"Oh my god, what are you talking about? Do you really have to be so cryptic?" Robert struggled impatiently against the restraints. "And get me out of this damn chair!"

"The more you resist, the more I will be forced to subdue you." Joseph looked at Robert sadly.

"Yeah, I've noticed that, you've made that abundantly clear throughout our - for lack of a better word - relationship." 

Joseph almost looked embarrassed. "Please, Robert." He leaned a little closer. "We  _are_ on camera." 

Robert looked incredulous. "Okay, cut the crap, Joseph. This isn't funny. It never was. What's going on?" 

Joseph sighed. From his robes he pulled what appeared to be a small remote control. He seemed to look at it with a conflicted curiosity. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be more forthcoming with me, if I am going to be forthcoming with you." 

Robert rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Again, what? Jesus, Joseph." 

Joseph stared into Robert. "I know what you've been doing with Damien. You should've listened to me. You should've stayed away. Now..." He sighed, "I tried to save you, Robert." 

Robert could feel the blood draining from his face. "You're...  _jealous?"_

"No, I am not jealous!" Joseph replied in a throaty, giddy voice. "There is nothing to be jealous  _of_ , Robert."

"Yeah well same goes for you you piece of--"

"Enough, Robert, okay!?" Joseph threw his hands down impatiently. "Just reveal yourself as a vampire, and we'll go from there."

Robert's eyes bulged out of his head. "I'm not a vampire."

Joseph tapped the remote control against his lips thoughtfully. "I knew you'd be difficult. But I don't want to hurt you, Robert. I really don't... I did like you…” He swallowed.

“Fuck off. You like  _fucking_ with me.”

Joseph blinked in blatant disbelief. "That sort of teasing was a desperate cry from a man stuck in a place of uncertainty. You have no understanding of what I've gone through." Joseph looked down for a moment, then lifted the edge of the remote against Robert's chin. Robert snarled up at him.

"You're some sort of 'youth minister' or priest or whatever, apparently for a church that's actually some vampire-hunting cult? I think I understand you pretty well. The only thing I don't understand is why you think I'm a vampire."

"Because I know what happened with Damien!" 

" _Nothing_ happened!"

"Stop lying!" Joseph all but shouted. He then took a breath. "Let’s see those fangs, Robert.”

The end of the sound coming out of Joseph’s mouth turned into a sharp dagger that stuck straight through Robert’s skull. A crack of lightning cleaved through him and he felt he might be hanging in half, and when it stopped a wave of euphoric non-pain cascaded in its wake.

“This is a very specialized electric chair, a family heirloom handed down through generations of Christiansens. It was such a nice keepsake, but it was just rotting in storage, you know? So I thought I'd repurpose it. You're not the first vampire I've had to extract information from.” Joseph explained as he paced. Robert was panting in shock, staring wide-eyed. “We use it to coerce the supernatural and demonic to reveal their true selves.”

“‘We’?” Robert managed to sputter.

“We are the protectors of the cul-de-sac way of life," said Joseph. "Run by the Church." 

“Joseph, you are making a _mistake_. Please, no don’t do it--!” Robert was cut off as Joseph activated the shock treatment once more. “Holy FUCK, that HURTS!” Robert panted as he came slinging back from being vaulted through the Nine Levels of Pain.

“This should gradually wear your defenses down so that you have no choice but to transform into your true vampire self,” Joseph reasoned sadly. “Let’s hope it works sooner rather than later.”

“Joseph! I’m not a vampire - what makes you think that?” Robert asked desperately, before his mouth was snagged by a strong hand. Joseph yanked Robert’s jaw towards him, his fingers bruising Robert’s cheeks, the movement so violent Joseph’s nose collided with Robert’s.

“You had a nice set-up, didn’t you?” Joseph murmured as Robert flinched and his breath quickened. He tilted his head, and Robert tracked the movement of Joseph's nose, dragging across his own. “I know everything, Robert. There’s no sense keeping up appearances anymore.” His fingers pressed in through his cheeks against Robert’s teeth, and Robert groaned in pain as Joseph forced his mouth open. “Hmm… are you going to show me your teeth, or not?” Joseph’s breath climbed up Robert’s face, and Robert squeezed his eyes shut as he wondered whether it was just heat or if Joseph’s lips were actually brushing his. Robert whined, huffing, trying to move his head in any angle that would alleviate the pressure of Joseph’s fingers prying into his mouth. Eventually, Joseph's voice dripped into his ears, as dreadful as an addiction. “No?”

Just as Robert was released, his jaw smarting with relief, another electrical charge bloated his head. He heard himself whimpering, high and squeaky, as it faded and left his body throbbing. “God, Joseph, _for fuck's sake!_ ”

Joseph dropped into his lap again, crushing their hips together, his arms slinging around Robert’s head. “If you want me to stop, Robert, you only have to do something very simple.”

“What?” Robert sputtered, his heart pounding as he stared point-blank into Joseph’s eyes.

“Comply. In fact, if you comply, I’ll do more than stop…” Joseph leaned forward, his fingers raking up through the back of Robert’s hair. His somber mouth mutated into an ecstatic grin. “I’ll be _nice._ Would you prefer Nice Joseph?” His hand trailed through Robert’s hair, grazed his ear, fluttered delicately down Robert’s sore cheek. Robert heard himself moan, a desperate, buckling sound.

“I thought so,” Joseph said softly, and then his hand snared around Robert’s neck, cutting off his breath with a wet grunt. Robert felt blood pooling in his head, stared in panic at Joseph, suddenly unable to speak or move. Joseph tilted his head, his expression resuming calm, and tilted his mouth against Robert’s ear; “I know suffocating will do nothing to kill you, Robert…” Horror washed over Robert, cold in his veins and yet everything from Joseph's hand up was on fire. A ridiculous aroma, one of green pastures and board games and pink polos, welled up in his nose, the dregs of Joseph's day-time guise still stuck on him. Robert began to writhe underneath him, struggling to get the words out; _No, you fucking idiot, stop, stop, you’re going to kill me -_

And then Joseph released him, shoving off of Robert’s lap and shaking his head as Robert gasped for air. “Ah, heavens. But I can’t bring myself to do it to something that looks human… it’s terrorizing my humanity.”

Robert coughed, his throat uncrinkling, his neck aching. “Jo - Joseph… St, stop…”

“Confess.”

“You’re… fucking wr-wrong.”

Another boulder of gluttonous fire dropped on his head, and Robert heaved and shuddered, bawling in the limbo that came immediately before outright crying.

“God damn it, Joseph!" Robert struggled to speak, his voice unrecognizable. "You think I’d k-keep it from you like this?” He trembled with panic, his mind scattering into pops of needles.

“Should I believe you _wouldn’t_ keep something from me?” Joseph murmured, playing with the remote. Before Robert could sniffle a _yes_ , Joseph continued; “Vampires aside...or should I say, ‘on the side’?’ We both know there is something you have kept from me. Isn’t there, Robert? Some rather shadowy choices?”

A knot dragged down Robert’s throat as realization coiled into dread. “Um.. J- Joe…” Robert gasped, flinching as he watched Joseph’s thumb drop onto the button -- but there was no charge. Panting, Robert looked up at Joseph, and Joseph looked down at him.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Robert? I’d love to hear it.” He said, in the same tone of voice Robert recognized as when he, very rarely, disciplined his kids.

It was painful to swallow, and Robert squeezed his eyes shut, and they burned behind his eyelids. He dropped his head, every word tangling onto his tongue, getting stuck between his gritting teeth. He felt spit dribbling down his chin, alien and slimy against the kaleidoscope of hot and icy that tremored through his skin.

He was yanked up by a handful of hair, and he hissed a sob, giving up all cares he had to keep his mouth from twisting into ugly shapes of agony. “What is it going to be, Robert?” Joseph demanded, but Robert could hear the smile in his words. He kept his eyes shut against the barrage, wishing he could fucking _speak._

“Yes!” Robert finally choked, incoherent. “Please, Joseph! Please, stop, yes! I… Damien…”

A hand grabbed his face, and as violent as it was it just as quickly became gentle, became delicate brushes of fingertips. Robert’s breath hitched, and all he heard was Joseph’s voice echoing in his ears. “Almost there, Robert. See what I can do? I can make you feel good, Robert.” It took a moment for Robert to realize the pressure on his ear was Joseph’s lips, dragging along the rim, knocking back heat and longing into his bloodstream like a shot. “...and I can also make you _hurt._ ” As soon as the words bit into Robert’s ear he seized up.

“Wait, Joseph!”

“For?”

“I- I fucked…. I …” Robert dropped his head into Joseph’s shoulder and Joseph shoved him back.

“If you won’t tell me - “ The remote hovered into Robert’s vision.

“I fucked Damien!” Robert pleaded, panting, tasting the sour, gut-wrenching mucous flowing out of his nose.

Slowly, Joseph lowered himself into Robert’s lap, one big, capable hand stroking down Robert’s face. “You did.”

Robert peeled his eyes up to look into Joseph’s. Blue, electric blue. Numbingly blue. Robert scowled, wondering how Joseph could reduce him to _this_. Joseph's thumb stroked under his nose, smearing the snot into a glob. The gesture began to melt his scowl.

"How could you?" Joseph said, flat.

Robert's face burned, an ugly fit of shame rearing. Eventually, he gathered enough strength to say, "I don't owe you anything."

Abruptly Joseph lurched back, planted his foot on the chair and, with a grunt, knocked it over and Robert along with it, severing his connection with the wires that had been stuck to his head. Strapped to the chair, Robert banged to the ground, cursing as he crumpled like a bag of garbage on the floor.

"Have you no remorse for your wrongdoings?" Joseph cried. Robert craned his neck to look at him; the world was askew, Joseph slanted, his angry face warped.

"Remorse? What am I supposed to have remorse for?" Robert flinched as Joseph yanked his head up, pushing the electrodes back on. Robert tried to get a good look at him. He wanted to see his face, wanted to see it there - the hurt that Robert had been with someone else. The evidence that Joseph wanted something more with Robert than he let on.

Instead, he saw flashes of random memories as he was yanked into another electric shock; he knew he had almost lost consciousness once he was climbing back into it. He was suddenly freezing, a cold sweat clinging to his skin. "F-fuck," Robert gasped, pulling at his restraints in his panic.

Joseph's words muddled through his head, eventually manifested into something that he could hear. "You humiliate me in front of my own children, Robert, and then you do this. Is he worth it to you? Turning yourself into a vampire? Becoming a creature of murder, lechery, and sin?"

"This... again... fuck."

"As long as you continue to deny what you are."

"You sound like a damn drone," Robert mumbled, his lips flapping to the point of near uselessness.

"A creature of sin. Of shame."

Once again, Robert felt twisted around, struggling to blink the haze from his vision as he stared into darkness, searching for Joseph. Was he angry that Robert could be a vampire, or angry that Robert had slept with someone else? "Which one is it, Joseph?" Robert voiced aloud, frustrated and haggard.

The next shock filled his head with white, all the way to the brim. When, after a lifetime, it subsided, Robert lolled his head, moaning. "If you want... truth," Robert wheezed, casting his gaze around the half of the room he could see, searching for any sign of Joseph; "You have... to give it."

There was quiet, and Robert began to wonder if Joseph was still there. If, after the last shock, he had actually fainted, and Joseph had left him there, and it had been hours. Days.

Finally, Joseph's voice gave life to the darkness. "I've given you truth, Robert."

"Like... h-hell you have, so-called Family Man of the Year -"

"NOT THAT, Robert!" Joseph snarled, footsteps slapping the concrete as he approached Robert from behind. Suddenly the world was revolving around Robert again, the chair flipping to lay on its back at Joseph's yank, punting the air out of Robert's lungs in the process. He choked on drool and sweat and his own twisted throat, but at least he could see Joseph again. Looming over him, like a false upside-down sun at the center of the sky.

Through the dark, Joseph's face was pallid, distressed, and maybe it was just the strange angle that made him look so angry. He lowered to his knees over Robert's head, and Robert heard the remote crackle against the floor by his ear. Dread rippled through him, and he realized he needed to do something to stop this.

"This," Joseph said, his voice like cursed crystal. "This is my truth." He leaned his lips into Robert's, kissing lips that were too numb to return any sort of intentional shape, and Robert struggled to understand. This sadistic, cultist madman was his truth? Was Robert supposed to feel special, that he had the privilege of seeing the fucked-up crap Joseph was truly capable of?

Then he remembered the remote, practically felt it humming next to his skull. Joseph's mouth was hauntingly warm, comforting, and Robert wanted it badly, wanted Joseph to do bad things to him -

Robert drew Joseph's tongue into his mouth, plunged his own deep into Joseph, tangled together, tasted his core; then he bit down, and when Joseph moaned with _appreciation_ Robert nearly couldn't bring himself to drag Joseph along with him as he jerked his head towards the remote.

Then he dropped down onto the button.

 

* * *

 

 

_Do you know what I had to tell my children?_

Was that inside of Robert's head?

_I had to tell them what love was. They're children, Robert, but they're very smart. They know when they're being fooled. Just like their mother._

Who... Joseph?

_So I had to tell them. I couldn't just tell them that love means compromise, that love isn't always easy, that love takes work. No. Thanks to you, I had to tell them the truth.  
_

Joseph didn't know Robert was listening now. He didn't know he was waking up.

_And you know what, Robert?_

What, Joseph? Tell me what love is.

_I told them I don't know._

...What?

_I told them I didn't love their mother._

WHAT?

_I told them... I didn't love them._

Robert started in a strangled gurgle that stood up into words; "wh- h- why did you say that?"

He wrenched his eyes open to see Joseph lying beside him, staring at him, betrayal suspended in his cold eyes. Robert looked up and saw the same coldness in the butterfly wing orbs on either side of the wooden cross on the wall. He was in Joseph's room. Robert slowly sat up. Joseph laid out on his back, staring at the ceiling. He took a long time to answer, and Robert was too dazed to protest.

Eventually, he spoke, quiet. "I said it because it's true. That's what you wanted, Robert. And I've given it to you. I don't love them. How could I? I could never hurt them, the way I hurt you. You're the only one with whom I can be myself, Robert. This is who I am.” Joseph’s gaze trailed down to Robert’s lips. “And, by the way, you outdid yourself back there. If you hadn’t slipped off of the remote, we both might be dead. I’m... happy, you feel such passion for me that you’d die for it...” The words shouldn’t have stirred the butterflies in Robert’s stomach that they did. Joseph sighed, carefully tying off the skewed, yet beautiful, romance his words had painted. “So the children are with Mary, now. The Church isn't ecstatic about it, but it's paved the way for me to save you." Joseph smiled sadly at Robert. 

"Wait... Did you...Th- the vampire... thing...?" Robert questioned, scrambling to catch up.

Joseph sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes dismissively to the ceiling. Robert's gaze drifted down in quiet understanding, or as much understanding as anyone could manage with Joseph. "I never believed you were a vampire. But I had to convince the Church that you weren't..." Joseph almost laughed, which seemed absurd. "I'll have to explain  _that_ later. I told you, you shouldn't have hung out with Damien," Joseph shook his finger. 

"Why?" Robert croaked.

"So we could be together, Robert!" Joseph held out his hands like he was praying. "You tainted your image by hanging around Damien. I had to show the Church that you were human. And now... you get to stay with me."

"What?" Robert stuttered.

"Believe me... It's in your best interest." Joseph reached behind him. "I can't have Damien changing you."

Before Robert could protest, Joseph had jammed a syringe into his arm. "What the fuck?!"

"Hopefully you won't have to be on the treatment for long," Joseph's voice was fading behind a white light. "We'll find each other. After all--all of the pain. The pain is everything. It means everything, Robert.

"I've loved you all along."

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow Robert was up before the sun. Maybe it was because Joseph and him had spent the better part of the day before... _reconciling,_ after their latest fight. Their relationship had been volatile, with Robert still struggling to understand Joseph's actions, but needing him all the same. Robert stepped into the backyard, a cigarette already in his mouth.

Mary was gone. She would be back though, right? For the kids to see Joseph, at least...

Kids. Val. _Val._

Robert impulsively patted his jeans, finding only empty pockets. With a groan, he remembered again that he had thrown his phone off the overlook.

The backdoor slid open, Joseph stepping out. Specks of early daylight gleamed on his bare chest. "Hey," He said, a dream, dark and stormy. There was nothing hiding his darkness, now.

Robert swallowed, still chewing on his earlier intentions. He could still call Val back, couldn't he? His life was fixed now, he was with Joseph... he could finally be there for his daughter.

"You look spooked. What's got you? Other than me," Joseph chuckled, sliding a hand across Robert's shoulders.

"Nothing. Just lost my phone a while ago. Wanted to call someone."

"Oh, you know what, I think I actually found something..." Joseph turned without finishing his sentence, disappearing inside. Minutes passed by, and Robert went back to ruminating over his cigarette. Eventually, Joseph reappeared and tapped Robert on the shoulder. His cell phone dangled from Joseph's fingers.

"Joseph!" Robert gasped, practically sobbing as he snatched it out of Joseph's hands. "How did you find it?"

"I've got connections," Joseph grinned.

Robert was consumed with thoughts of Val, finally feeling ready to talk as he pressed the call back button. What was he going to say? He had no idea, no clue at all - he would start with Hi, then maybe.. maybe ask about the weather, her girlfriend, 'how's life treatin' ya?'

The other end of the phone picked up, a crisp click in his ear.

"Val - !"

"We're sorry, but the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected," a mechanical recording echoed through the suddenly empty chamber in Robert's mind. "Good bye."

Robert was still for a long time. The phone hummed uselessly at his ear.

His arm sunk down, the phone clattering into the grass. 

"Robert?"

Robert stared at the ground absently. "Light me another cigarette, will ya? And, Joseph... can you stay out here, with me?"

”Yes. I’m here.” Joseph curled an arm around Robert’s shoulders and stroked his hair, then pulled until Robert’s ear was against his mouth. “Whatever it is, Robert, forget it. It’s just you and me.”


End file.
